


Paint Samples

by just_another_classic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_classic/pseuds/just_another_classic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While spending some time with her mother, Emma thinks about second chances and a certain confession in Echo Cave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint Samples

Emma watches her mother knead the dough, her nimble fingers covered in flour as she works. Snow White’s movements are methodical, a well-practiced routine that seem almost second nature. Emma’s own fingers tighten around her mug, lifting it to her lips to hide her awestruck smile.

 

Emma, herself, has never been one for the kitchen, opting for TV dinners, take out, or pasta with sauce from a jar. She has memories – fake memories that she tries to push down because they hurt too much – of baking cakes with Henry, them mixing chocolate chips into waffle batter, and homemade lasagnas that she made from scratch – sauce and all.

 

She wonders if there hadn’t been a curse, if she would have been able to deftly knead the bread like her mother does now, but those thoughts are almost as painful as her fake memories with Henry, so she presses them down. Instead, Emma tries to resolve herself to focus on what she has now, a mother who is here and making more memories – real memories – with both her and Henry.

 

Henry is spending the day on the _Jolly_ with Killian, her father and baby brother in tow. It warms her heart to know they are bonding, this little family of hers, especially after the hell – both literal and figurative – to get this point. Emma also loves how it gives her extra time to spend with her mother, just the two of them.

 

Her mother eventually finishes her kneading, and transfers the tough to an overlarge bowl to let it rise for a few hours. As Snow White washes her hands of flour and dough in the sink, Emma comments, “You’ll have to teach me how to do this some day. Killian always complains about how the processed stuff is too sweet.”

 

“Compared to the Enchanted Forest, he’s right,” Snow hums in agreement, toweling off her hands. “Of course, it’s also really nice just to go to the store and pick pre-sliced bread.”

 

“Convenience – the real magic of the Land Without Magic,” Emma says, thinking of her own forays into the Enchant Forest and its lack of easy shopping for food, clothing, or anything really.

 

In an unspoken agreement, the two women move to the living room, opting to curl themselves opposite of one another on the couch. Emma is hit with a string of memories from her earliest weeks in Storybrooke after she first moved into the apartment. That period in her life had been such an emotional upheaval, but her newfound friendship with the woman known as Mary Margaret had grounded her.

 

There are times when Emma misses Mary Margaret-the-friend. There had been a certain ease in the camaraderie shared between them, one that is not easily found between mother and daughter. Mary Margaret had been one of the few people in her life that made her feel special, wanted even. But Emma wouldn’t trade this, not anymore, these little moments she gets to spend with her mother in the quiet of the loft.

 

It takes her a moment to notice paint samples scattered across the coffee table. Lifting one of the many shades of blue, Emma asks, “Redecorating?”

 

“We’re thinking of painting the back wall in your old room. Maybe turning it into a space for Neal.” A blush crosses her mother’s face, and for a moment Emma thinks she looks guilty. Emma feels a twinge in her gut at that, knowing that her mother feels guilty because of her.

 

Snow’s feelings aren’t completely unfounded, Emma knows. Months ago, the thought of her parents flipping what had been some space would have caused some sort of replacement anxiety, just as Neal’s birth had done. Now, it’s different, or at least Emma hopes it is. She feels more secure in herself and with her place among her family. She wants her mother to know that, to feel that calm.

 

“You’ll have to let me know if you’re getting new furniture. I’d love to help Dad put it together again – or at the very least magic it up the stairs.”

 

Her mother beams, a brilliant smile that makes Emma think that this woman truly is the fairest of them all. “I’m sure he would like that. The helping put things together, that is. I think it would bruise his manly ego if you used your magic to move everything.”

 

They both laugh at that, thinking of her father and his need to provide before falling into a semi-comfortable silence. Emma thumbs over the paint samples, considering them and the situation. Her eyes flick back from them to her mother. “I’m thinking about maybe doing something different with the guest room in a few months.”

 

“Well, I have a few magazines if you want to borrow them. Are you thinking about turning it into an office? It’s not like we really get many friendly visitors these days.”

 

“Mmmm…not an office.” Emma takes a sip of her cocoa, relishing the taste as she waits for her mother to catch up. It’s a brilliant moment when she does, Snow’s eyes widening and mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise.

 

“Emma, are you…?”

 

Emma shakes her head. “No, no, definitely not. Not yet. But…the topic has been discussed.”

 

“Ah, so that’s why Killian suggested that David bring Neal out today. He wanted to know what it would be like to have a tiny first mate tag along.”

 

“It might have been a factor.”

 

Her mother once again grins that bright, brilliant smile, and Emma feels a similar one tugging on the corner her lips. This could be the sort of confession she could have with Mary Margaret, but it is one she knows will be much more meaningful with the person she knows as her mother. The topic is something she’s been waiting to discuss with her mother for quite some time, if only because Snow White is one of the few women in her life that can understand the tumult of emotions currently brewing inside her.

 

She wants a baby. It’s something she never imagined she would want again, especially after the trauma of Henry’s pregnancy and birth. But ever since Camelot when Killian announced his intentions of having a future with her, she’s been considering it – a small child with his dark hair and her green eyes – and she’s found herself wanting it more and more as the days pass by. 

  
It surprises Emma, how easily she can picture it. She's seen Killian hold her little brother before, but if she closes her eyes, she can easily envision him holding a bundle of their own, bouncing around the kitchen with their son or daughter nestled safely in his arms. He would be a good father. She has no doubt about that. He's proven that with the ease in which he interacts with Henry, taking him under his wing as if he were his own son. Emma can't help but imagine how wonderful he could be with another.   
  


After his death and subsequent resurrection, she finds herself wanting it all with him, to make the most of her second chance together – offspring included. The whole thing takes her back to Neverland, Echo Cave in particular, and her mother’s confession that aided in freeing her brother’s namesake.

 

“I get it now, you know,” Emma says before she realizes that her she hasn’t yet voiced her train of thought to her mother. Snow White waits patiently, realizing that Emma needs this moment. Were this months ago, Emma imagines that her mother would have pushed the moment. They’ve all grown a lot over time. “I get how you felt in Echo Cave, about wanting a second chance and wanting another kid…and I wanted to apologize for every making you feel bad about it.”

 

“Emma, there is absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Snow White says, sitting her own mug down and reaching forward to take Emma’s hand in her own. “After everything that you went through, it’s only natural that you would feel the way you did.”

 

Emma looks down, biting her lip as she considers her next inquiry. “Do you think Henry will get it?”

 

“Oh, Emma, of course he will.”

 

Snow’s face softens at Emma’s question, and this is what she needed her mother for, the assurance that only one can bring. She’s never had this before, a mother’s love and devotion, and it’s something she’s grown accustomed to in the short time that she’s had this. It hasn’t always been this way, with her pushing her mother away at the start of their newfound relationship. This is just another thing she’s trying to hold onto, make right again.

 

She just hopes her own desires don’t wreck the other relationship she’s trying to mend.

 

“It’s just that I gave him up, Mom. There wasn’t a curse threatening everyone. It was me giving him up…choosing to abandon—“

 

“You _didn’t_ abandon him.”

 

“ –and now I’m choosing to maybe have another one. I don’t want him to feel like he’s being replaced or unwanted because I want to have another kid, because I’ve been there and I was him and –“

 

“Emma, _stop_!”

 

Emma snaps out of her rambling at the sound of her mother’s voice, firm and fierce, every bit the general (or princess, rather) that once led a war against and evil queen. Snow reaches for Emma’s mug, taking it from her and placing it on the table atop the many squares of paint sample. Snow pulls Emma into a hug, and for a moment Emma feels small.

 

Affection is still so new to her – from her parents, from a lover, from her son. After an entire childhood of bouncing from home to home, to not having anyone who truly cared, it still shocks her sometimes to be surrounded by the people who do – who care for her, who love her, who want to make her feel safe. Emma feels the tiny pinpricks of tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, but she stamps them down. Her past isn’t something to cry about, not anymore.

 

Still not letting her go, Snow begins to speak to Emma, her voice soft and soothing. “Emma, I don’t know if Henry will feel jealous or not. He might understand, and he might not. He’s a teenager. One minute he hates magic, and the next he believes in it. Whatever happens initially, I do know that he will come around.”

 

“I know, but –“

 

“I’m not finished,” her mother’s firm tone returns, telling Emma that she _must_ listen, that whatever she is about to say is equally important. “What I also know is that you need to stop beating yourself up about giving Henry up for adoption. You did it to give him his best chance.”

 

“Mom…”

 

“And I know that you missed all of his milestones, and you want nothing more than to have that with him. Being there for your second child won’t take away from what you have and will have with Henry now. Nor does wanting it mean you love him any less, or make you less of a mother to him. You didn’t abandon him. Wanting another child now when you couldn’t keep him then doesn’t mean you abandoned him. You did what any mother would do, and that is what you believed was best for him. And let me tell you, Henry turned out to be a pretty fantastic kid.”

 

Emma pulls from her mother’s embrace and looks at her, really looks at her. Snow White’s green eyes, the one’s Emma inherited, are glassy with their own unshed tears. She knows that her mother is speaking from her own experience, providing an insight because she struggles with the same feelings of failure, however misplaced they may be now. Emma realizes, not for the first time, how similar her and Snow White may truly be.

 

“Thanks, Mom.”

 

Emma reaches for her mug, the cocoa now cool. She doesn’t mind though, not if it means she gets to spend time in her mother’s arms – a thought she might never grow completely used to, but thrilling all the same. With her free hand, Emma shuffles the color samples into a neat pile.

 

“You know, I’m actually terrible at the whole decorating thing. When it comes time to redecorate the guest room, do you think you might want to help?”

 

“There’s nothing I would like more.”

 

Her mother’s smile returns, and she wipes her eyes with the corner of her sleeves. It’s a move that doesn’t proper for a princess, but Snow White’s hastiness makes Emma grin all the same.

 

“Good.”


End file.
